Ruth needs a careful man:
For she’s the sort that’s steady with the steady,
And a featherhead with featherheads. She’s sense:
And Michael ...
Bell:
Michael’s sense itself—a cob
Too steady to shy even at the crack of doom:
He’ll keep the beaten track, the road that leads
To four walls, and the same bed every night.
Talk of the devil—but he’s coming now
Up Bloodysyke: ay, and there’s someone with him—
A petticoat, no less!
Judith:
Mercy! It’s Ruth:
Yet I didn’t leave, till she was safely off
To work ...
Bell:
Work? Michael, too, had business
In Bellingham this morning, oddly enough.
Doubtless, they helped each other; and got through
The job the quicker, working well together:
And a parson took a hand in it for certain,
If I ken Michael: likes things proper, he does;
And always had a weakness for black lambs.
But, who’d have guessed he’d ... Surely, there’s a strain
Of Haggard in the young limb, after all:
No Haggard stops to ask a parent’s leave,
Even should they happen to ken the old folk by sight:
My own I knew by hearsay. But, what luck
You’re here to welcome the young pair.
Judith:
No! They’ll wonder ...
I bring no luck to weddings ... I must go ...
Bell: